Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance
by Yuuki Miyaka
Summary: [SAP] Quatre and Trowa share a comfortable, lazy Lover's Day together.
1.

**Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance**  
4+3 GW Sap for Fablespinner's Contest  
by: Yuuki Miyaka  
Part One - Ohaiyo Gozaimasu

I look at him, still sleeping as the morning wears on. He's so beautiful, so innocent. Like . . . like an angel. Perfection encased in a human form. I wonder if the lover's day I've planned will be perfect enough for him. Not that he'd think any less if it wasn't. It is simply that I prefer to make everything as beautiful, as gentle, as marvelous as him. Just like the breakfast I've made. I glance down at the tray, then balance it on one hand, nudging the bacon a slightly different position so that it looked artistic as well as edible. Beside the omelette, the toast was also a hair out of place. A slight nudge, and I look back at the bed.

He's awake. With the opening of his eyes comes an awareness I always marvel at. He is no angel when he is conscious. Instead, I'd almost call him an imp. With eyes brimming mischief, he reaches out to me, inviting me to the bed. I go to sit beside him, handing him the tray.

"Trowa," he exclaims, and the sound of his voice goes straight to my soul, warming it like nothing ever has. "Arigato. My favorite!"

I nod, well aware that my own voice is harsh beside his melodious tones and not wanting to spoil the music just yet. I watch him eat, prepared for the moment he takes a forkful and lifts it to my lips instead of his. This is a game we've played often. When I first asked him why, he said simply that since I had cooked, he must serve me. That time ended with us tussling on the bed. Well, perhaps a bit more than merely tussling. But it is for that reason that I made enough for both of us and put it on the one plate. It is so much more intimate if he is feeding me off of his own plate, rather than a separate one.

When breakfast has finished, he lays back down, snuggling into the two pillows he likes to sleep on. He doesn't like the angle my single pillow leaves his neck in, so whenever we snuggle, it is always on his pillows. I don't mind. As long as my arms are around him, my nostrils filled with his uniquely sweet scent, I would be willing to undergo any contortion. Two pillows is not bothersome in the slightest.

I lay down beside him, nipping his neck slightly just below the earlobe. He sighs, arching his head away from me, presenting his neck fully, much like you might see in old vampire movies. I chuckle at the idea, then nuzzle at the presented flesh. It's incredible how good he makes me feel with barely any effort.

We fall asleep like that, resting for another hour or so before Quatre finally snuggles away from me, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "Ne, Trowa! I want to watch that movie we bought!" I nod indulgently, rising and smoothing out my turtleneck. He scrambles into lazy clothes, nothing that should incite my passion, yet I still feel a thrill of warmth as he turns toward me. "Come on!" He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, grateful beyond words that he is here with me, that he wants me as much as I want him.

* * * * *

We walk into the living room and he immediately drags me to the couch, pushing me down on it so that I am sprawled over it. I didn't expect the move, though I suppose now I should. It is, after all, his favorite way to watch movies. He selects the video disk, pops it into the player, then drapes himself over me, cheek nestled against my chest and my arms wrapped around him. The position is at once uncomfortable and wonderful, and though I often find my circulation leaving my arms by the time the movie is over, I will never tell him that.

We laugh through a silly little romance about a love triangle. The heroine comes out on top, as always, and we are left with the vague feeling that it is a good day, made better by the sappiness of the movie. I hug him tightly, drinking in his scent, feeling his warmth and the pin-prickles which warn of impending arm failure before finally rolling him off of me.

He lands on his rump on the floor, a stunned look on his face. I can't help it. The scene draws a slight chuckle from me. From him, it pulls a giggle, then two, then three. Then he is laying flat on the floor, laughing brightly as his arms hold his stomach. That sight convinces me that this world we fought to save is worth any price, as long as it houses him upon it.

Moments later, laughing fit finished, he looks up at me. "Ne, Trowa, I'm hungry. What's for lunch?"

I grin. "Come on, funny-face. Let's see what we can make together."

"Sugoi," he said, rising and following after me.

My heart is encased in that smaller, blond package.


	2. 

**Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance**  
4+3 GW Sap for Fablespinner's Contest  
by: Yuuki Miyaka  
Part Two - Konnichiwa

We settle on an aioli, which - though it sounds exotic - is one of the simplest dishes I've ever learned to make. Like any truly good food, it never turns out the same way twice, but that could be because I've never learned an exact recipe for it. Instead, I had Quatre boil the water for the noodles while I cut the vegetables to go in it, starting with the onions. "Trowa, you're so incredible when it comes to knives," Quatre coos, and I grin inwardly, bowing slightly at the compliment. He always says that, and I always bow. It's tradition, and far be it from me to break tradition.

Moments later, with the onions sweating and the rest of the vegetables piled on the plate, I watch Quatre add the noodles to the water as I mix the chicken broth. Working beside him is comfortable, homey, even though most of the time I find him sitting at the kitchen bar watching me cook. Now is no different. "You know what I love about this?" he asks me, and I raise an inquiring eyebrow. "I love watching you. You're so graceful."

The compliment makes me blush, but he delights in doing that. In lieu of an answer, I turn to the range, stirring in some of the broth I prepared. I can feel his eyes on me, and a warmth spreads through my body at the mere idea of him watching me. With his current duties, I can't remember the last time we actually spent a lazy day at home. To me, it is the best gift I could give him for our lover's day. I think he agrees, too.

He lets me finish making our lunch in relative quiet, only asking a question here or murmuring a gentle comment there. I serve him, then myself, and we sit down to the gently spicy dish. Discussion flavors the meal even further as we delight in each other's company. The topics range from simple to complex, from flattery to rants, from the day's happenings to memories of the past, and we sit at the table long after the food is gone.

"Trowa?" he askes, after a while. I look at him, which is answer enough. "Why this? You're as busy as I am. You could've just picked up a gift or something on the way home last night."

"Because I'm as busy as you are, Imp." He grins at the affectionate name I gave him long ago. "Because we both need the relaxation today. And because, more than anything else, I miss being able to spend days cuddled with you." It never fails. That sunny smile spreads across his face at the thought. I love that smile. If I had a poetic bent in me, I could go on for hours about that alone. 

When lunch is over I let him gather the dishes and slip them in the sink. Another tradition. We'll clean them tomorrow, because today is so special. And then he's guiding me out of the kitchen, herding me toward the music room. I know what he wants. He loves playing duets with me. Of course, I love it too.

* * * * *

As I mentioned before, I don't have a poetic bone in my body, but there's something about the music he creates, the music he pulls from me, that makes me wish I did. There's no real way to describe something that beautiful. And it IS that beautiful. He puts his entire heart into any piece he plays. I can hear it in there, pulsing with the beat and giving meaning to every liquid note. 

The melody pours over my body, reminding me of the way we met, of the first time I ever heard him play. It is a joy to listen to, his music, and next to him I feel awkward, gauche. But he turns those entreating, enticing aqua eyes to me, and I melt. Anything he could ever ask of me, I would give him. Next to that, the music seems a small request. But it is what he wants, and so I lift the flute to my lips, letting my own heart guide me through a descant to his song. 

It is hours, and mere minutes, before we finally lower our instruments, staring at each other in marvelous wonder. His music never fails to move me, and he says the same thing of mine. But that is the way our life is, our souls moving each other to gentleness, love.

I would not trade this day for anything or anyone. Moments like this - that is what we fought for, that is what we live for. And that is what we were willing to die for. I just never thought I'd get to experience it for myself.


	3. 

**Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance**  
4+3 GW Sap for Fablespinner's Contest  
by: Yuuki Miyaka  
Part Three - Konbanwa

I will freely admit that I am grateful that we are able to sit on the roof. The sunsets we're able to see from there are . . . breathtaking. Unfortunately, it's very rare that we are able to do it together, and so it's rare that I do it at all. It just doesn't feel right unless Quatre is cuddled in my arms, his slender frame warm against mine. There is nothing more wonderful than hearing his breath as the sky is awash with vibrant, glowing colors. Sometimes, it even moves me to tears.

We round out the day doing just that. He is curled in my arms, holding one of the two wine-glasses we have. The other is on the roof in front of my feet, easily accessible to my aqua-eyed love. We don't speak for most of the sunset, instead remaining silent and enjoying the beauty that is nature. When we fought in the war, I always feared that something would happen and we'd never get the chance to live out this dream.

But here we are, alive and warm and happily in love. And happy we are indeed. I can see it in his smile, in his eyes. I can feel it in the way his breath slows and evens while he's in my arms. It's more than simple want, more than intense need. It's absolute trust, and that is something that I never expected to have OR feel. If I knew who to thank for such a gift, I would fall on my knees in gratitude. But all I can do is protect that trust with my entire being.

He's fully asleep when the sun is down, and I carry him down to the couch in the living room, setting him in it and pulling the blanket over so that I can go make dinner for us. I will rouse him when I've finished. Dinner is simple, falafel and shish taouk with shaurbat adas. I laugh every time I try to pronounce the words that Quatre taught me. Deep fried fava beans and chicken kebabs with lentil soup. The Arabian names sound so much more romantic to me, though, which is why I learned how to say them. He's been teaching me a lot of his language.

Since I'd marinated the shish taouk previous to the meal, it took only an hour to prepare and cook everything, and I carried the steaming dishes into the living room, setting the tray on the coffee table before waking my sleeping angel. He was slow to waken, dark lashes sweeping open lazily and revealing eyes that matched the place in the horizon where sky meets sea. They are each a beautiful green-blue color that becomes a shining jewel when he smiles up at me. I hear his melodious voice wishing me good morning, and I have to laugh at that.

"It's night, Quatre. Dinner's ready." His smile widens warmly, and he pushes himself into a sitting position, looking over at the tray. In delight, he says the names of the dishes, names I can barely manage not to mangle. The way he says them, they become poetry, lovely and exotic. He reaches out, snagging a piece of chicken and bringing it to my lips with bare fingers. I am certainly grateful that they have cooled enought to allow him to do so. As I eat, the fingers brush over my lips familiarly. The sensation tickles, and I pull away from him, mock-glaring as I try to wipe away the spider tendrils that still tickle me.

"I love that," he laughs brightly, and I chuckle as well. I'm well familiar with the joy he derives from tickling me. It is fun for me as well. Anything to feel his touch.

But rather than tell him that, I merely say, "Eat your supper." He nods, doing as I ask.

"It was a beautiful sunset tonight, wasn't it, Trowa?"

I nod. Beautiful because he was with me. Beautiful because we are alive and together. Beautiful because the world is finally peaceful now. Everything I know makes it beautiful, makes our lives beautiful.

He lapses into silence, but it is comfortable, not awkward. We both eat calmly, eyes watching each other as much as our meals. When the meal is done, he rises, taking the dishes to the kitchen before returning and tugging me to my feet. I follow, curious as to what he wants.

We stop on the roof outside, and he hands me a small box. I raise an eyebrow, looking at him in question. His only answer, though, is "Happy Lover's Day." I admit surprise. He found time in his busy schedule to remember me? The surprise must show on my face, because he covers one hand with his, laughing and kissing me. "Silly Trowa. I always think of you."

I cannot remember when he started doing that, started reading my mind. I suspect he's always known how, though, and just didn't show it immediately. It would explain the instant connection I felt with him. I open the box, and then have to find a seat because my legs have turned to instant jelly. The gift is so like him, so completely trusting that for a moment, even had I been a man of many words, I would be unable to speak. It is . . . his journal.

"Are you certain?" I ask hesitantly. I've always respected his privacy about the leatherbound books he writes in each night. I've never pried. I've never felt the inclination to, to be perfectly honest. I think I mentioned the reason earlier. Absolute trust.

"Of course, Trowa. Most of it's about you anyway. And . . . I wanted to share with you."

It always comes back to that, to sharing. We're not two people anymore. We're one person with two physical beings. Everything gets shared, in the end. Even souls. I nod, then reach out, pulling him into my arms as I start to read. The sentimental thoughts, sappy-sweet and blatant in their love for me, bring a smile to my lips. It is the perfect end to a perfect day, I muse, as I turn the page. My Quatre has given me the perfect gift. Himself.


	4. Oyasumi Nasai

**Lover's Day: Comfortable Romance**  
4+3 GW Sap for Fablespinner's Contest  
by: Yuuki Miyaka  
Epilogue - Oyasumi Nasai

Dear Journal,

Iria gave me a piece of advice on my wedding day that I've tried never to forget. 'Never take for granted those you love.' I am ashamed to admit that I haven't lived up to that sentiment. In the past few months, I've taken Trowa for granted all too often. But I realize that now. And all it took to remind me was the perfect day.

For my Lover's Day present, Trowa didn't go out and buy me a gift. He didn't take me out on a date. He didn't do any of the traditional things. Instead, we stayed home and stayed together all day. It was the most wonderful gift anyone has ever given me. We watched a sappy movie; we played duets; we watched the sunset. And we talked. And we cuddled. And I've fallen in love with him all over again.

I can't say I'll never take him for granted again. I wish I could. I can't even say that I'll remember to pay attention to the small things, like he does. But . . . I'm going to try. For him. For us.

Of all the days I've ever spent alive, the only one that rivaled this for happiness was the end of the war. And even that comparison is as a candle compares to the sun. Trowa makes my life complete and happy. I don't think I'd be able to survive without him somewhere in it. I don't just feel him with my uchuu no kokoro. He *is* my uchuu no kokoro. He is my life and my soul and I love him wholeheartedly. I don't think I'll ever grow tired of saying those words, either to him or to myself.

He's calling me for bed, though. I think I shall enjoy tonight, no matter if we make love or simply cuddle. He's reminded me what a joy it is just being near him.

Reminder to myself: Never take Trowa for granted and pay attention to the small things. Of everything I can think of, those are the two lessons today that matter.

Oyasumi nasai,  
Quatre 


End file.
